


Meet You Halfway

by inthebackoftheimpala (Wishme)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF!Cas, Domestic, Gen, M/M, bunkerfic, fallen!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 13:15:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishme/pseuds/inthebackoftheimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas moved into the bunker and Dean's having trouble with the new roommate situation</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet You Halfway

As it turned out, Castiel made a terrible roommate.

 

Not only did he leave his socks everywhere (back of  the couch, middle of the kitchen, a lone soggy one in the garden), he refused to do dishes, and had no concept of personal space. Not that the last one came as much of a shock, considering he'd never had any regard for it before his fall, but it was somehow worse as a human.  Any room Dean went to enter, Cas was already there. Any corner Dean turned around, Cas’s solid form was there to crash into. He hovered in the kitchen, right around Dean's elbows causing him to spill coffee or bacon or break a glass or three. He played the mix Charlie gave him way too loud and on repeat, constantly. It had gotten to the point where Dean found himself singing “Chrissy Kissed a Corpse” in the shower and was that _fucking disturbing_ or what.

 

He hogged the covers, which Dean only knew because the second night after Cas arrived  at the Bunker, Dean had found him breathing jaggedly in the pitch-dark library. He'd bundled Cas up and tucked him into his own bed, humming "Hey Jude" until the shaking subsided and he slipped into sleep. And he'd just never left. Sure, Cas had his own room down the corridor that he'd started filling with bits of things found around the Bunker and on their short trips into town: a smart regulation desk with a creaky wooden chair, a few old books on aerospace, steel collar stays, an old John Grisham novel he'd nabbed for twenty-five cents, a car air-freshener, some pebbles, a dud scratch off lottery ticket--simple things. Cas was making his space ( though Dean had no idea when since he was _always around_ ) but every night before Dean turned off the light Cas padded into the room to steal half the bed.

 

Morning came and it started over again: the rooms, the corners, the music, the broken cups.

 

After a few weeks Dean had had enough.  He’d walked into the library where Sam and Cas were already eyeball deep into research, Robyn blaring on the speakers and he’d snapped. “Could you just not? For one fucking day. _Jesus Christ_ ,” He ground out before stomping back into the kitchen. He knew he was being a dick, but it was all just too much. Nothing had been left untouched, no corner or mug or breath that hadn’t been shared with Cas. Knuckles white where they gripped the countertop, Dean exhaled. He had to apologize, but _fuck_ , man. He needed to separate, get back to his routine, get his head back in the game. Too many sons of bitches out there that need taking care of to get distracted.

 

Fingertips grazed his shoulder and he jumped. Of course it was Cas. Rubbing a hand over his face Dean said, “Now is not a good time, man.”

 

Cas just looked at him and said evenly “If I’ve made you angry somehow, please tell me.”

 

Dean huffed a laugh because the fuck is his life, man.  “Dude, you don’t even know, do you?”

 

At the raised eyebrow he continued, “You leave your shit everywhere, you never clean. You play that music all the fucking time and it’s driving me nuts. What the fuck is a _Blueberry Boat_ anyway? I mean, Jesus. And grown men don’t share beds dude. You haven’t had a nightmare in weeks.” He ran a hand through his hair, “You just need to back off, man.“

 

Features still Cas nodded, “I-of course. I’m sorry to have caused you any distress. That was not my intention”

 

His hands were up in the air and his mouth open before Dean could register a thought, “See and that’s exactly it.  You just take it. You sit around and you do research and you listen, but you drift, man. I mean, are you even really here most days? Do you even _want_ to be here? Because you don’t have to be. You can do what you want. There’s no angel council, there’s no big bad. You’re human, Cas. You get to call your shots. Don’t feel like you have to be here. You don’t owe us anything.”

 

The last few words betrayed more bitterness than he hoped Cas recognized and he said them to the tile floor. He was out of bounds and he knew it. Cas knew it too. The former angel gripped his chin and forced the hunter to look into his eyes.

 

“You think I don’t know this? I chose Dean. I _chose_ to defy orders and grab you from the pit.  I _chose_ to stand against my brothers for you. I _chose_ to attempt the trials and while I did not choose to fall, I _chose_ to come here. Who do you think you are, Dean Winchester, condescending to me? I know more than you can possibly ever know. I have seen galaxies born, I have seen countless empires rise and fall. You think I don’t know how this game plays out? We die. _I_ will die. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in a few years, but Death will come for me just as he will come for you. And I’m sorry if my actions have been bothering you, but please remember that I have lost my grace. It takes some adjustment. And if you had something to say, you should have told me before throwing a fit like a child.”

 

Dean’s jaw had dropped and he grasped for something, anything, to say before Cas cut in again.

 

“If you don’t wish me to be here, you tell me. I can’t read your mind. I’m _human_ , remember?”

 

Something in his tone and eyes as the last few words left his mouth, dripping with scorn, reminded Dean too much of his trip to the future, care of the Zachariah express.

  

“Then go, if you want to leave so badly, “Dean exploded. “ If you’re thinking about it you should just do it! We aren’t your keepers, Cas.”

 

“No, you are my friends. I thought that meant something.” Cas’s eyes were glued to the ground .

 

Silence grew, almost a solid thing between them. A lone ant made its way across the floor, one small set of feet in front of the other, scuttling into one of the cupboards.

 

“I don’t want to you leave, Cas.” Dean said, exhausted. His anger had fled, leaving a hollow throbbing in its wake.

 

“Then what is it?”

 

“You will though. Leave.” Dean clarified, and Cas’s shoulders dropped.

 

“Oh.”

 

Dean sighed, “And that’s cool. I mean, I get that you have things to do and you need answers. I’m just… I’m just not good at this, man.”

 

And he wasn’t. The socks might be annoying and he could do without the music or having to replace the glasses, but the thought of waking up to a cold pillow next to him made his chest seize. He knew he was an idiot, but this took the cake.  He squeezed his eyes shut.

 

Again the hand on his shoulder took him by surprise and he raised his eyes to meet his friend’s, inches away from his face.

 

“Dean.” Cas said, and he turned his head away again. “ _Dean_.” Cas insisted, forcing his chin up. “Yes, I’m going to leave. I have to find out what happened to my brothers.”

 

Dean’s lungs lurched sideways but he didn’t dare drop his sight again. His friend’s eyes pinned him to the spot, “But I will come back.” Cas’s eyes softened and his hand came up to cup Dean’s cheek, “I will always come back. You said once that you needed me.”

 

It had actually been two or three times, but Dean knew better than to mention it. Especially since Cas seemed to be on a roll. “I need you too,” he continued. “This is my home now. You are my home now. You and Sam are my family. And I need to do what I can to protect you, and that means searching for my brothers. But it also means coming back home.”

 

He leaned forward to press their foreheads together, “Is that clear?”

 

“Crystal,” Dean mumbled.

 

“That is not my name.” Cas deadpanned and Dean jerked back in time to see the grin flit across his friend’s face.

 

 

Dean’s hand fisted in Cas’s shirt and hauled him close, “You little shit.”

 

And he kissed the grin off Cas’s face. Soft and chaste, he lingered there for a second before leaning back and saying, “You’re still getting headphones.”

 

So, Cas got headphones and he still broke glasses and left his socks all over the place, but Dean left the toothpaste cap off and burped in Cas’s face. And when Cas left to find his brothers, Dean woke up to a cold pillow that smelled of citrus or coconut, or whatever new shampoo Cas was trying, and a text message with coordinates and a homebound ETA.

  
  


 

 


End file.
